


Gift Exchange

by Aithilin



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Fluff, Gift Giving, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-29 15:24:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16746556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aithilin/pseuds/Aithilin
Summary: Ravus did not want to visit Lucis at the height of their gift-giving holidays, but he believes that the trouble may be worth it.





	Gift Exchange

On reflection, Ravus would say that his Lucian counterpart had not changed much in the past twelve years. Noctis was still wide-eyed and shy, slipping to his father’s shadow in their meetings rather than standing at his side. He was still quiet, subdued— not bearing the silver tongue of his more regal father. Ravus may not have admired King Regis, but he could respect the man for his station, for his seeming commitment to the peace that brought them together from across Eos. Noctis, a shy royal shadow, simply allowed others to believe that his silence was an aloofness borne to the royal lines. 

To Lucis, this time. To parry and renegotiate and review the treaties at the height of the Lucian holidays. 

Ravus stood by his mother with pride, even as Noctis searched the gathered Tenebraean guests. 

“Unfortunately,” he offered to the unasked question in his counterpart’s eyes; “my sister can only send her regrets and her gifts at this time.”

If not for their venerated parents smiling at the awkward meeting of heirs, Ravus would have added a snide ‘it seems you’re stuck with me’ to the end. From his mother’s sharp look, he knew that his tone had succeeded where his diplomatic training failed.

There were dismissed in due coarse, and given the times to attend the meals, the meetings. As if a detailed itinerary hadn’t already been reviewed months in advance and approved by every official in attendance to their every need and whim. As if he, or any of those in his retinue, would be so careless as to be distracted by the spread of the Lucian capital. 

From his rooms in the Citadel, Ravus could admire the shining example of Lucian innovation. As crude and gaudy as it was. As they had passed through the city gates and the imposing fortifications, ushered with ease from desert dusts of Leide to the glittering chrome and steal of Insomnia rising around them, Ravus had only missed the serene elegance of Tenebrae. 

The Lucian capital glared with the reflections of the sun— the trees and plants that lined streets and plazas mere decorations and desecrations to landscaping— as they approached the looming, severe shadow of the Citadel. He had missed the greeneries of his home and the natural securities of the Tenebraean mountains and ranges. Not that he would admit it to his hosts, but the Lucian city was as harsh as Gralea in the light— inhuman steel and stone, unnatural controls encasing the Crystal that was meant to be the soul of Eos itself, but devoid of the natural touch. 

He thought at the time that he should have gifted the Lucian Prince a plant. He suspected that the boy would wonder at it. He supposed there was still time, as he checked the gifts that had been delivered to his rooms— a small setting of wrapped boxes lined along the desk in one corner of the spacious room, each tagged and noted for their respective recipients. Of course they had arrived during the height of the Lucian gift giving season, subjected to their indulgent practises and selfish whims. 

“Settling in?” 

Ravus did not startle at the voice, nor the sight of Noctis peeking (for lack of a better term, edged as he was at the door, peering in around the corner) in at him. Instead he turned, and started the process of removing his coat— the symbol of his station more durable than the delicate crowns he had come to expect from his hosts. 

“It will do.”

“High praise, Ravus.” Noctis invited himself in, and Ravus simply watched him move. He had suspected the Prince to be shy, quiet as he was in his father’s shadow when they were received. “Did you see the view?”

“I saw enough of it on the way in,” the coat was settled carefully into the closet, every imperfection noted for later. He itched to fix them now, to ensure the presentation was perfected before he was subjected to royal company again. Before he was expected to make an impression once more. “No need to continue gawking at your city from new heights.”

The insolent roll of Noctis’ eyes set him on edge as the young man simply opened the curtains on one arched window to reveal the city below. 

The lights were everywhere. Glittering like stars and stretching to the horizon in a field of glowing, twinkling signs of life. The traffic far below moved in steady streams, with ebbing and pulsing lights to guide his eyes along the city’s veins. The courtyard of the Citadel mercifully dark save for the lamps and lanterns he had seen— the reflection of the Citadel lights stretching out to banish any foreboding shadows. The lights of the advertisement moved and pulsed with the traffic lifeblood of Insomnia, the sky surprisingly dim despite the glow. He could not see the familiar stars, but the city shone with its own style of fervent life.

He understood his mother’s admiration for this city when viewed from such a dizzying height. 

The Lucians seemed intent on imitating the sky in all things. The gaudy sun, the shining stars, the delicate glow of the moon. Noctis had slipped from his side as he let himself examine the view. 

“You,” Ravus pushed the lid of the box Noctis was peeking into closed; “are incorrigible. I understood there were traditions to giving gifts here.”

“There are,” Noctis admitted, undeterred by the threat of a scolding; “but traditions are boring.”

At Noctis’ bright smile, Ravus lost any sense of shame for allowing the distraction. Instead he stepped away from the desk and allowed Noctis his mischief— smiling as he listened to the box sliding open, turning away to examine his wardrobe for dinner as the paper moved beneath what he assumed were eager hands. Ravus allowed himself a smile at the soft noise from Noctis— the soft breath he would dare call a gasp if he allowed the indulgence. 

“You can explain to my mother why you opened your gift from me early,” he said, feigning the cool tones he relied on.

“Ravus, this is gorgeous.”

Lucian weapons were innovative at best, and crude at worst. He had seen the Armiger, read about the favours of the Kings and Queens for strength, power, and protection. He understood that Noctis trained as much as any soldier, mastering every Lucian weapon that could be found for him to test. He understood that Noctis sparred and learned and rose to every challenge posed by his people and advisers and handlers. 

Ravus understood that, like King Regis, Noctis favoured one-handed swords above all else.

No tales of the Armiger he had seen or heard included a rapier. None carried the delicate balance of a Tenebraean steel. None handled— from what he understood— a proper weapon befitting the royal status. When he turned, Noctis was already testing the balance of the blade, admiring the intricate work included on the hilt by Ravus’ own design. The sheath was done in Lucian greys, with a motif of Noctis’ favoured Astral and flowers embossed across the dull, night-sky colours. Both Carbuncle and the Sylleblossom a reminder for the Prince of where the gift came from. 

“I don’t suppose you know how to use that.”

“I suppose you’re going to show me.”

Ravus stepped around Noctis to take the blade from him, to show how delicate his grip needed to be; “I will make it the purpose of my visit. If only so you don’t embarrass me.”

He expected the gratitude, the show of thanks. He expected diplomatic phrases and smiles. 

He did not expect the kiss to his cheek. Or the more distracting one to his lips. 

On reflection, Ravus wondered, Noctis had not changed at all in the span of the months since they had last been together.


End file.
